Here Without You
by FallenMystery
Summary: MAJOR HALLOWS SPOILER!  Fred and Angelina... if you've read the book, you know that no more needs to be said.


A/N: Because I believe Angelina and Fred have always belonged with each other. Because I believe that Fred's death would have shattered her. Because apparently, JK doesn't give a damn.

Disclaimer: Two Fred oneshots in a matter of hours. Do you know what that means? It means I'm not only pissed as hell, but depressed as shit. JK didn't seem all that cut up about it.

It had perhaps been a silly reason to join the fighting of a war—a selfish reason, maybe. However, on the surface, it was for a good cause, in the end. No matter her reasons for coming.

But she had to see him.

They had fought together for some time, the old Quidditch team, side by side—except for Harry, of course. None of them let the others out of their sight, because everyone knew that such a thing would mean death. Here, together, they could watch each others' backs, just as they once had on the Quidditch pitch. There was a sense of rightness as they fought, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Oliver, George, and… Fred. They had always belonged together, the six of them.

Eventually, the twins disappeared together, saying something cheeky about saving the world through Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. No one thought twice about it.

As she fought, Angelina knew that she had to do it. This was not a time or age to spare words and feelings. She loved Fred Weasley, and perhaps she had always known it. But now it was more clear to her than ever. She had come to risk her life just for the sake of seeing him, after all.

She saw Remus and Nymphadora Lupin fall in the same breath, and her heart tugged painfully—hadn't they just had a child? Briefly distracted, a curse caught her on the cheek, leaving a clean gash. She shook her head and blasted the Death Eater to hell and back.

In the hour's lull, Angelina leaned against a wall, catching her breath. Sure, if they didn't release Harry to Voldemort within the hour, they would all die. Sure, it wouldn't exactly be fun. But somehow, none of that mattered. She had to find Fred.

Amongst the throng of weary fighters, Angelina searched for the redheaded twin. Instead, she ran into a miserable-looking Alicia. Angelina gave her friend a half-smile. "Hey, 'Licia. Have you seen Fred? I… I need to talk to him."

Angelina didn't understand the look her friend gave her. "Oh, honey…"

Her brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Wordless, the blonde took her by the elbow and led her out of the crowd. She pointed to the distressed group of Weasleys, who seemed to be huddled around a body. Sorrow clutched at Angelina's throat—which one of the Weasleys hadn't made it? She scanned the group.

George was crouched by the fallen fighter's head, and Mrs. Weasley was laying across the person's chest. Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Ron. Then there was Percy—she was glad he had come back to his family. Charlie stood next to Bill, who had Fleur tucked under his arm.

"I don't understand. Who are they so upset over, and where's Fred?" she demanded. Maybe an unconscious part of her knew—knew, and was attempting to deny the inevitable.

Alicia's blue eyes filled with tears. "He's dead, Ange. Bellatrix killed him."

"_Who's_ dead?" she nearly screeched, frustrated. But Alicia just choked on her tears, and Angelina made her way over to the redheaded group, looking intently at all of their faces before finally looking down. They didn't seem to notice her.

Before she even saw the body, she saw George's face, and she understood. His tortured, empty, crushed expression told her that only one person could be lying before him. It looked as if his entire world had been destroyed in one fell swoop. A shadow had replaced the bright twinkle in his eyes. She had never seen pain so deep. It was pain beyond tears, beyond words, beyond sound. It was inexpressible, as if should he try to express it, the world itself would shatter beneath the weight.

He looked to be _half_ the man he had once been.

Because he was.

Unwillingly, she looked at the body anyway. For a moment, she thought she might faint, because beneath a violently sobbing Molly was the body of Fred Weasley, almost unrecognizable in his still death, except for the trace of a laugh still left on his lips.

At that moment, Ginny recognized that someone had joined their circle. "Angelina," she breathed. Everyone looked at her, and she could tell… they knew. It must have been written all over her face. She loved Fred.

She couldn't look at them. Wordless, she turned and walked away, half-running. She had to escape from their gazes, their faces, most of which were quite like Fred's. Sobbing now, she pushed past Oliver, who had Colin Creevey's body hoisted over his shoulder. Death… it was everywhere, and she couldn't leave it.

She sat on the front steps of Hogwarts. There was a battle to fight, and that battle was less than half an hour away. Her dark eyes flickered to the Pitch, and memories flooded through her mind. Practices, games… Fred. She could see him now, bright and alive. So alive, in fact, that everyone else faded in comparison—it was just the way he was. The way he _and_ George were. The two of them were everything that is best about the world. Their personalities were comprised of all that is good, and all that is light. Fred's death… it was more than extinguishing a candle. It was like extinguishing the _sun._

How could everything have gone so desperately wrong? None of it should have happened. Hogwarts shouldn't have been spoiled like this… desecrated as it had been. No one should have died.

Fred shouldn't have died. He should still be here… should be alive... People like Fred weren't supposed to be killed. They were supposed to live long, laughter-filled lives that were unthreatened by darkness. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but she was still there when she heard the words, said in Voldemort's coolly unconcerned voice.

"Harry Potter is dead." She didn't hear the rest. Something inside of Angelina broke right then, completely shattering her spirit, and she knew that she'd never be the same. On top of everything else… the Boy Who Lived was dead.

Later, once the battle was won, and everyone was assured that Harry Potter was indeed alive, Angelina quietly extracted herself from the tired group. She took one last look around the Great Hall, one last look at her friends—one last look at the empty spaces where friends should have been.

And then Angelina Johnson walked out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to disappear into the Forbidden Forest.


End file.
